AN: Bit of a short chapter...REVIEW and tell me whether or not you liked this chapter..if you guys don't like it, it's coming down.

I woke up in the hospital wing. Luna's fuzzy face swam into view, and it was riddled with sympathy and worry. She smiled at me.

Besides her, Blaise and Malfoy stood, looking out of place. Blaise's expression was something akin to concern. He smiled when he realized I was awake, and nudged his companion.

Malfoy looked over at me and nodded curtly. I think that I was the only one who noticed that his jaw tensed when he looked at me, or that his grey eyes got darker, deepening into pools of mercury. I couldn't determine whether he was angry or concerned.

He had really become quite handsome, with a long, lean, muscular frame and a less-pointed, strong jawline. His hair was the same bleached blonde, almost white color that it had always been, and his big grey eyes were framed by elongated, dark eyelashes. His white Oxford was slightly rumpled from being outside, and his tie was crooked. Black pants outlined his legs, slackly, elegantly, and his robe was held in one alabaster, long-fingered, hand.

"How long was I out?" I croaked.

"Not long," Luna assured me. "The Quaffle hit the back of your head, and you fell off of your broom. Luckily, Draco caught you before you hit the ground."

"Oh," I said, closing my eyes. "How-how did my broom fare?"

"I got it," Blaise said.

"Thanks," I said.

I heard rapid footfalls approaching me. I opened my eyes.

"Madame Pomfrey," I said, "will I be well enough for Quidditch tryouts?"

She sniffed, "well enough to injure yourself again, you mean? Yes, I'm releasing you in the morning. Drink this."

I eyed the purple liquid inside the vial. "What is it?" I asked warily.

"It's for the bruising on your head. It would have been much worse if you'd actually hit the ground."

She handed me the potion, which I unstoppered and quickly swallowed.

It was the bitterest potion I'd ever had to take, but a nice, warm, fuzzy feeling encompassed me briefly, and I felt my scalp tingle.

"Thank you," I said briefly.

She nodded, "but your friends have to leave at nine thirty on the dot, not one moment longer." And she left us.

I was surprised at this, because the nurse usually kicked everyone out so that the patient could 'rest'. My injuries, I concluded, must not have been that bad.

I sipped at the water lying on my bedside table. "Where's Malfoy?" I asked.

Luna bit her lip, an uncharacteristic move for her. "He left."

"For what?" I asked. Why did I care?

"He probably went to bed," said Blaise.

I lay back down.

"Speaking of which," Luna looked at me with apprehensive eyes, "we should probably get to bed too."

"Of course," I tried to ignore the slight feeling of betrayal. "You have classes and homework and stuff."

Luna smirked at me as if she knew something that I didn't, and they left.

I began to drift to the point of semi-consciousness. I dreamed little vignette-like dreams that made no sense. They all had the same thing in common though-they all featured Draco Malfoy.

I was on the Quidditch pitch, flying in some new formations that I'd learnt. Suddenly, I felt myself slip off my broom, dropping to the ground with a silent scream of terror…when Draco Malfoy swooped down on a bright green dragon to catch me. He held me in his arms, his face lowering to meet my own…

I jerked awake, looking around the room wildly, my heart hammering in my chest, my eyes wild. And there in front of me sat Draco Malfoy.

I stared at him. Was he real? Was he an apparition here to torment me?

He chuckled, actually chuckled, before speaking. "Yes, Weaselette, I'm real."

I blushed furiously, jerking my eyes away from him. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out.

He shifted his stance, arms crossed. "Luna said that you needed to talk to me."

"Um…okay," I said, equally uneasily. "Um…thank you for saving me and um…not waking me up on Monday."

He looked down at me coldly. "So you can say it when I'm the only one in the room, but not when other people are there?"

I turned red. "That's not-"

"Blaise gets thanked, oh yes, because he saved your broom! You have absolutely no problem saying thank-you to him! And Pansy can't know who you're going to ball with, oh no," he continues icily, sparks in his eyes, "it's not like she's not going to find out on Saturday. No, you needed to bring up Cedric fricking Diggory to avoid the question! Heaven forbid the little Gryffindor princess has to go to the Ball with me, with 96 percent compatibility! Maybe you were right; you sure are the one who suffers!"

He looked at me once more, as if disgusted, before sweeping out of the room.

I sat there, frozen, his words replaying over and over in my head.

"You sure are the one who suffers!"

"It's not like she's not going to find out on Saturday."

"You needed to bring up Cedric fricking Diggory to avoid the question!"

Without thinking, I threw back the white sheets and tore after him, not bothering to pull on my shoes.

I hurried down the stairs, just barely able to see his shadow. I peered around a corner to see him, still angrily walking, cheeks tinged with a faint pink color, footfalls heavy and loud. I ran towards him, his name on my lips.

"Draco!" I called, stocking clad feet slipping on the marble floor as I neared him. I lost my footing, and he grabbed me with rough hands before I could hit the floor.

I looked up at him beseechingly. His eyes once again reflected pools of dark silver, deep and angry. He looked down at me coldly.

I gazed up into his eyes, his hands still on my arms. Weak-kneed, I whispered his name. "Draco."

"What?" he asked sharply, even as the acidity in his voice evaporated.

"I'm sorry."

His grip on my arms slackened. "I'm sure you are."

I looked at him, my eyes big and pleading, and my bottom lip in a pout. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Draco."

He looks away from me, at the empty hallway.

He's ignoring me, and I don't like it. I'm standing here pouring out my apologies to a Malfoy and he's ignoring me.

I pull out of his loose grip, arms crossed across my chest. "Draco!"

His head snapped back to me.

Our eyes lock.

He swallows, and I can see his Adam's apple bob.

"It's late," he eventually says, "You should get back before Pomfrey sends out a search party."

I nod, still looking at him.

And just like in my dream, he bends down, pale pink lips just barely brushing mine.

My eyes close, as I stand up on my tiptoes to deepen the kiss when he pulled away, smirking down at me.

"Go, Weaselette, it's late."

And I fled.